


Supernatural: Of Ants and Angels

by SingingFlames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ants, Crazy Castiel, Gen, chat, i love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6307063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingFlames/pseuds/SingingFlames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favorite angel and demon have a chat over ants. Set during the Season 7 finale (SPOILERS for that season). No pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural: Of Ants and Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Supernatural: Of Ants and Angels  
> Timeframe: During Season 7, Episode 23 “Survival of the Fittest”  
> Pairings: None  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: SPOILERS – Season 7   
> Author's Note: Two of my favorite Supernatural characters have a chat. I love these two and I really wanted to do a scene with them. Refresher (and SPOILERS for Season 7): this occurs when Cas is still crazy, Crowley has recently discovered Cas is alive, he still wishes vengeance for Cas' betrayal, and has decided that Cas would be too easy to kill as he is now and that the boys need him to take on the Leviathans.

Scores of miniscule insects scurried over the dirt. They followed signals only they recognized, trod paths only they saw. A fallen twig loomed over them, severing the insects from their invisible trail, yet they diligently circumvented it, forging a new trail. A rival insect – a lumbering, hulk of a beetle – ventured too close to the colony. Antennae flicked, touched other antennae, unspoken signals passing from one to the next to the next, and within moments, warriors swarmed to the defense of their community and their queen.

It was perfect synergy. Beautiful.

“They're so tiny,” Castiel mused, “but look what they can accomplish. So industrious. They build such complex structures, much bigger than any one of them, and yet they can do it without talking, with nothing but instinct.”

“Are you talking to me?” Crowley regarded the angel crouched in the abandoned parking lot. A hot gust of wind blew dust and grit over them. He sighed and flicked his hand down his tailored suit's sleeves. “Do you even know I'm here?”

“They don't like you.”

“I'm a demon. No one likes us, not even other demons. We're used to it.” He glanced down at the tiny creatures that so captivated Castiel. “Tell me, what would happen if I dropped a rock on them?”

“They'd be sad, but they'd work around it.”

“And if I poured burning oil on them?”

“They'd die.” Castiel frowned. He stared off into the distance. “Seventy percent of the planet is water. Shouldn't people have gills?”

“Still bonkers, are we?” Crowley snorted as a sudden concerned expression came over the angel. “Be thankful. Your scrambled noggin is one of the reasons you're not enjoying some of my 'best' accommodations down below. I haven't forgotten your betrayal, in case you're curious.” He tilted his head. “I have to wonder, though, that maybe this,” he nodded at the angel kneeling amongst the ants, “leaving you broken and, well, as you are, is a worse punishment than dragging you back to Hell. Can you see how far you've fallen?”

Castiel looked back down at the miniature-scaled flurry of activity. “I like ants.”

“Charming.” Crowley pulled out a silver flask, un-stoppered it and took a whiff of the Craig scotch within. Satisfied, he drank a swig. “Shouldn't you be getting back to the boy wonders? Or have you forgotten? Leviathans? They're doing all sorts of naughty things. Usually, you and the boys are anti-naughtiness.”

“They work in perfect concert, always for the greater good of the whole.”

“Sounds terribly boring.”

“They're in harmony. None of us are. Not the humans. Not the angels. Not the demons.”

“Demons don't do harmony, love. Not in the cards.”

“You should try it. It looks nice.”

“I'll leave that to you and the duckies upstairs.” Crowley glanced up to the sky. A few wisps of clouds floated high overhead.

“I'm … not good at harmony.” Castiel reached for the anthill, but stopped, his hand hovering an inch over the insects.

“Surprise.”

Castiel pulled a baggie from his pocket. He squeezed a thick, amber liquid from it and dribbled it next to the anthill.

“Seriously?” Crowley sighed. “You're giving them honey? That's precious.” He took another drink of scotch. “Once you're done playing with the bitties, I trust you'll head back to Moose and Squirrel, yes? Tick, tock.”

“They deserve better.”

“Then be better.”


End file.
